Night
by AmourApricot
Summary: Now in danger of the infamous Igarashi Tora, who thinks Misaki Ayuzawa possesses information that could undo the entire Japanese system, only one painfully sly, infinitely dangerous, and inhumanly sexy agent can protect her from Tora's grasp: Usui Takumi. And he plans to do just that - and then some.
1. Twilight

**Sierra: Hip Hip. . . Hoorah~ Explanations at the bottom.**

 **Enjoy~**

* * *

 **Night**

 _-0-_

 _Prologue_

The sides of the hall swelled with businessmen as lines of them parted, splitting perfectly to make way for the infamous Igarashi Tora. Each step, each click of his glittering, sleek black shoes echoed through the cavernous space. Suit: crisp, magnificently black. Tie: unwrinkled, straight as a pencil. Hair: elegant, slicked to one side. Eyes: deadly as a tiger's.

Though his walk was formal, power flipped between each of his steps. Intimidation rode the tidal wave of men flitting to let him pass, each adult bowing at their seams to reveal an open letter of respect. Two men escorted him, walking stiffly behind his gazelle-like strides. The previous mummer that had been swimming through the businessmen hushed in an abrupt finale, leaving an earful of silence in its wake. This, more than anything, most likely, was the most rewarding part of being the head of the Igarashi foundation. Watching as the most influential men in the world bowed to your presence.

Tora made his trip to the massive conference room briskly, as the miniscule voices began to arise behind him. The polished, glittering glass door that opened to the conference room was held away from its frame by one of the men aside him. He entered, taking quick inventory of the bleak, modern room he bathed in. Blinding white walls on two ends, disconnecting them from other rooms. The far wall was crafted entirely of glass, exhibiting the picture-perfect view of the clear, sparkling Tokyo night, as car horns and billboards sent music floating up from far down below. A perpetually long conference table, pitch black, sprawled in the middle of the whiteness, occupied twenty-nine men on both sides, all who stood as soon as he entered.

They bowed their greeting as he moved to take head of the table, wondering for only a second why the action felt natural to him. As the men in their expensive suites straightened back, Tora noticed some expressions filled with anxiety and delight, some filled with a calm patience, and some overflowing carelessly with undulated hatred and jealousy. And of course, they had every reason to be jealous. Those at the withering age of forty, fifty, bowing down to the youngest Chairman of any institution they'd ever known. Such a young man to uphold such a power. Power none of them would ever be able to obtain.

Tora's smile was darkly delighted. "Good evening, gentleman. Thank you all for coming out on this night. I apologize for any interruptions this may have caused in your plans-" Not really, but he'd say it to fill their poor little hearts with fake reassurance, "-and I am grateful for your appearances." His voice rang loudly in the high-ceilinged room. "Have a seat," he allowed, gesturing for them to assume their previous positions.

Once assumed, one man spoke from the middle. "Mr. Igarashi, it is believed you flew out here on such short notice," he observed. Tora gave a glance in his direction; didn't recognize him.

His reply was calculated, though easy. "Yes," he said calmly, "I was recently attending a meeting in Okinawa, with the Presidents of the nearest major corporations to discuss some pressing matters." He eyed the man, the lines that dipped in his forehead, the age clear in his features.

The man's eyes widened. "I'm sure I speak for us all when I ask what could be so important that you came back here to arrange this current meeting."

Idly, Tora wondered what business he was from. He stared at the man a little longer, watching the discomfort and inferiority twist his features until he looked away awkwardly.

Then, he smiled. "Quick to the point, are we?" He laced his long, skilled fingers into a canopy, placing his chin upon them and his elbows on the black wooden table. The mans face reddened.

"I meant no disrespect, sir-"

"No matter," Tora interrupted. "I do loathe pointless banter, so it seems you've done me a favor." The man looked back up, his black and gray hair sliding from the massive amount of gel put in place to keep it polished and prim. His eyes were wide and green.

 _He looks like a child._ Despite his obvious age, his attitude sang of something far more adolescent.

"Gentlemen," he addressed, gripping everyone's attention. "I've called you here to discuss the case of a woman," he deadpanned.

Silence ensued a collected exhaling of twenty-nine breaths.

"A - a woman, sir?" asked Mr. Himura, the executive director of a neighboring corporation that ran for Asian trade. His father had done major business with him in his previous years, before he kicked the inevitable bucket, and was still going headstrong into the game of business. His tone was bewildered.

"A woman," repeated Tora, with infinite patience.

No one seemed to be able to comprehend the importance of his words. Instead of annoying him, it merely amused him. Something about seeing a room full of confused businessmen lost for words was entertaining. Somewhere, in the far recesses of his mind, the thought was probably wrong and immature. Though despite his own age, immature wasn't necessarily something Tora would ever have associated with himself.

"I - I'm sorry for inquiring, Mr. Igarashi, but what does a singular woman have to do with all of us?" stammered a man from the back, lost in the sea of black ties, blank stares, and empty speech bubbles. His relatively untouched features were instantly familiar.

Tora stood gracefully from his seat, placing his hands on the edge of the conference table. The action reminded him of being six years old again, too vertically impaired to see over conference tables as massive as this one. Of gripping with his small hands to the edges of something similar, while his father smiled and assured he'd be able to see over one day. Quickly, he dismissed the thought. "An excellent question, Mr. Maki." His saunter to the far wall, made entirely of crystalline glass, was slow and purposeful. "What _would_ such a singular girl have to do with _anything?_ " He asked the question of no one in particular, though he could feel everyone's eyes follow him like slithering snakes.

Without unwanted response, he proceeded, staring out at the city below and beyond him, with hands clasped behind his back. His father had always drilled that posture was everything, and intimidation began with a straight spine. "I'm sure you're all familiar with T.E.C.H., our very own world's Top Digital Watchdog."

A small symphony of murmurs and breaths erupted behind him. "Of course," spoke a gravelly voice. "They supervise every district's technology usage, and control the signals that weave in and out of Japan."

"Right," agreed another voice, younger. "They know everything that's passed through anything technology related. Like dictators, they just observe. They're the ultimate powerhouse."

The reflection of Tora's eyes slit, slightly. "Correct. They have unlimited power, unlimited knowledge. Nothing that happens passes over them." He turned around. "Recently, they launched a fourm explaining some new procedures they'd be undergoing. In part of it, they said that the illegal usage of negotiation between companies here to other parts of the world were to be investigated thoroughly, through a long, rigorous process. They think some of today's major corporations are getting a little too _friendly_ with foreign marketers." His smile in the glass when he turned back around was wicked, slight. "Apparently someone's been a little too naughty, and a little less careful about it."

He saw the shock materialize on the faces of many, immediate signs of suspicious activity. He doubted anyone attending could have escaped T.E.C.H.'s nosy aura, therefore he had nothing much to worry about betrayal. None of them seemed smart enough to pull off something as complex as this. Most of them were statutory auditors anyway; they might report to the big boss, but inevitably they made no decisions.

"Did they say what companies were under suspicion?" asked a wavering voice, uncertain in its nature.

Tora turned around, facing the wide eyed stare of Mr. Hanazono. "Do you think they'd be so stupid as to openly exploit the companies they were to investigate, risking the possible hiding of said corporations? No, of course not. The names have been concealed, as I'm sure they'll remain."

The men gave each other identical looks of worry and surprise, the expressions tossed around carelessly. Only one black haired man, face young and untouched by the years of age, gave him a defiant slit-eyed stare. He looked about Tora's age, much to his surprise and amusement, completely unbothered by his recent declaration. Tora gave a smile his direction, to which was not returned.

Murmurs were still flying around the room when a voice arose above them.

"I still don't understand how a woman ties into all of this."

Tora threw a glance in Mr. Maki's direction again. "It is believed that one of the executives of T.E.C.H. let loose information regarding their intentions to investigate, and further information on what they would be doing to the targeted businesses once revealed. You could see what valuable liability such leaking could be, right?"

"So, you mean - The information is out there? Running wild where anyone could get their hands on it?"

Tora's smile was ruthless. "I wouldn't necessarily say that. You see, this particular executive was. . . _interested,_ in someone, so to say. He met her frequently outside of work, and it is said that he trusted her with the documents containing the information."

"You say, _it is believed, it is said._ Does that imply it's not yet fact?"

"My sources implore me to believe it is true, and I trust them with my life."

"So, what you're saying - you mean he had a girlfriend? And he gave this all to her? Why don't we just approach the executive and ask him about it personally?" called a voice from the far end of the table.

Tora regarded the crowd with mild interest. They were too far behind to be educating properly, it seemed, though their talents were required. He sighed. "Because to do that, well, we'd have to have clearance as to where he was, now, wouldn't we?"

"You mean he's gone?"

Tora strode to the head of the table again, not bothering to take seat in the plush chair set specifically for him. "Last month, records establish that he retired from his position rather abruptly, and flew out of the country without word of where he was going. We tried tracking his credit card, and it's expenses, but it seems the card was cancelled after buying an unknown ticket. Therefore, he is a walking ghost. It seems he blocked his entire background."

Mumbles flip-flopped back and fourth.

"That's utterly suspicious," agreed many of the men.

"Indeed," Tora regarded.

The man with black hair was still staring at him, not bothering to conceal his obvious bitterness. Without much warning, his mouth opened, and it took Tora a moment to realize he was speaking to him. His voice was deep and rich. "So I suppose you want to find this woman, then, and extract the documents from her?" His voice was full of superiority, which Tora regarded agitatedly.

It filled him with a rewarding feeling to say, "Wrong." Everyone's heads snapped up. The haughty one looked annoyingly undeterred. "The woman conspicuously disappeared soon after his leave. Presumably, she went with him, and since his location is unknown, hers is as well."

"What about apartments? Did either of them have a place? Perhaps it's there still."

"After a while, the woman sold her apartment and moved in with him, where they shared a house. After his leave, one was expertly searched. The house, after going on the market, was clear of any remaining pretense he might have ever lived there. And the apartment - the lease was transferred, to someone else who now lives there. Without a legal statement and criminal reason to investigate, we don't have the access or permission to legally search the place."

"So what then would be the plan? If he's disappeared mysteriously, and she's followed suit, how do you expect the information to be retrieved?"

Tora breathed in. Finally, the time had arrived. The _real_ importance of it all. "The woman, incidentally, had a daughter. Recently, she had been living in the dorms of her current college. But now, the apartment is under her name. It seems her mother transferred the lease to her daughter before she left. Currently, she resides there."

"So that's what it is. The daughter. You believe she'll have the information. How can you be so sure it's even worth the time?" the defiant one challenged.

Tora gave a chuckle. "You never know, do you?"

"What's all this got to do with any of us? I still don't get it." Many gave approved murmurs and nods at this comment.

"Well, seeing the look on everyone's face when I stated the fourm would undergo investigation, it seems you all have liable reason to partake in this." Heat crawled, embarrassed, up the necks of many members, while some, seemingly, got defensive.

"Are you _accusing_ us of illegal partnership?" boomed a deep voice, Mr. Koganei of the Koganei corporation.

"It's only an accusation if you take it as such," Tora replied calmly, a sly smile tugging his lips. "The documents hold other information as well, not just about the investigation. It would do anyone a hefty amount to obtain such letters, don't you agree? Business is about power, and power is how you win. Otherwise, we'd all be nowhere, right?" No one answered, though no one disagreed, either. "That's what I thought."

"So you want us all to help. You think you can bribe us with this, like children with candy, and we'll help you."

"I think after you hear what the documents entail, you'll _want_ to."

There was a pause. A break in time where words were scattering and melting into each other in everyone's head. Where contemplation was a real, physical thing and it gripped everyone by the throats and threatened them if their answer was not one. Tora watched the men, some suspicious, some listening intently, some hesitant, as they conversed with each other over the matter. He never understood this part of businessmen; why they always had to have reassurance from others to do something, as if without it they were unsure of their feelings. He'd always understood it to be if you wanted something, you chased it, doubtless of what anyone had to say. That's how you won, after all.

After an infinite number of moments, finally, a clear, certain tone rung above all. "Who is it, then? Who is this daughter?"

Another slow, predatory smile, tugging his lips. Tora met the eyes of twenty-nine men. "Misaki Ayuzawa."

* * *

 **Sierra: Phew! Prologue, finished! I'm super excited to be writing for Maid Sama c: I've been binge watching it lately, thought when I first found it years ago, I never would have imagined writing my own story for our favorite maid.**

 **Anyway, a little insight on the prologue. When it says "President" of companies, in Japan the President of a company or corporation is what a CEO is to us - the highest ranking member. The "Big Boss" so to say. Also, the company I mention, _T.E.C.H._ It's not a real company; I made it up, for all intents and purposes. **

**And yeah! This is just a prologue, hopefully I can post chapter 1 shortly, depending if anyone wants me to continue or not c: please tell me what you think! And for everyone wondering, yes, Usui will be part of this story. You'll meet him next chapter, if you want ;)**


	2. Night

**Sierra: Finally, chappie 1. . . I can introduce our favorite couple ;)**

 **Also, a heads up for when it rolls around to Misaki's POV - the song that is recommended you listen to during this part is Are You That Somebody by BANKS. This is the cover to Aliyah's original track.**

* * *

 **Night**

 _-I-_

The only noise in the dimness of the room was the deep, rasping breaths streaming hurriedly in and out of his mouth. A film of sweat had frosted his torso, his face, curling the strands of his honey-colored hair at his temples, and the nape of his neck. He felt it slide, slick, from his slender neck to the collar of his shirt, dampening the fabric and the hard muscle of his chest underneath. He moved, eyes gauging the shadows in the darkness, and slipped behind a wall. It felt refreshingly cold against his hot, tense back. He gave himself one, two, three seconds to think. Beyond was blackness; blackness so thick he couldn't even distinguish one shade of black from another. Mentally, he prepared himself, feeling the thrill of battle and the high of danger sing loudly in his blood. Then, in a leap of faith, he shot forward, fast and deadly as a bullet, his gun raised expertly in his hand-

And then light burst, exploded into his vision like a very surprising, very annoying bomb. Colors and shapes and _scents_ rushed at him in a wave-

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, USUI!" dozens of voices chorused. Compared to the recent silence of stimulated battle, these cries were as loud as a siren screaming in the night.

Caught gloriously off guard, Usui Takumi shut his eyelids against the assult of flooding lights overhead. His arms drooped like a wilted flower, fingers slipping on the gun. He stumbled back and threw one hand carelessly over his adjusting eyes.

People were laughing and cheering ahead. Their claps and hollers were a jump from the recent rush of his own blood in his ears. Usui removed his arm slowly, taking inventory of the scene unfolding before him.

Everyone - well, almost everyone - from the agency stood in untidy rows and clusters around one of their long pull-out tables. Upon the table was an array of brightly colored and frosted desserts, sprinkles spilling here and there onto the festive tablecloth. This, he assumed, was what had attacked his sense of smell. The air was full of the scent of sugar and - and _wine._ His heart slowed dramatically, the rush coming to an abrupt end. The blood in his veins flowed with the consistency of melted wax, unlike the previous surge of free-flowing water.

Suddenly a throng of his coworkers had broken away from the mass, coming beside him with goofy smiles stringing their lips. It didn't take a genius to distinguish their elation.

"Congrats on turning 21, kiddo," announced Cedric, clad in very unusual casual attire. Usually he never stepped out of the crisp suits and leathery gear, but tonight he sported a dark pair of fraying jeans and a T-shirt that said "Made in Japan." His hair looked wet, as if he had recently been in the shower, hanging in moist tendrils around the hollows of his cheeks. His eyes were alight when he winked. "You're a veteran now," he joked.

Usui met the other mans honey-gold eyes. He wondered when the day would come when they'd all stop turning his young age into some sort of undying joke. "I told you to stop calling me kiddo," he murmured, flicking away silky strands of hair that kept annoyingly catching in his long eyelashes. "I'm not that much younger than you."

Cedric grinned. "No, but I could drink before you," he pointed out, holding up the already emptying plastic cup in his hand. His other hand hung comfortably in his jean pocket.

"Doesn't mean you did."

Cedric's laugh was deep and musical, filling the room with a palpable kind of delight. "Guess it doesn't mean much then, huh?"

"I don't know what you'd been expecting," said Shiroyan, a small smirk upon his lips. He had appeared, similarly dressed, next to Cedric, holding an identical cup in his hand. "Usui _invented_ breaking the law. Of course age hadn't mattered when it came to alcohol."

"Did it matter much to you?" Cedric shot back. Shiroyan's face burned with color at the comment, just slightly.

"I never said anything about me," he defended, flustered-

"That's because we weren't talking about you," cut in Usui. "We were talking about me, which is unsurprising. I'm spectacular." Something in the back of his mind was whispering incomprehensible sentences that he wasn't necessarily caring to drink in. When his hand twitched, he realized what it was. He gazed down, looking at the gun still held, now loosely, between his fingers. With his thumb he put the safety back on. "I could have shot you all," he surprised himself by saying. The words had been in his head but tasted so much better on his tongue.

"Yes," Cedric agreed thoughtfully. "You could have. But you didn't." His smile was friendly.

"Thinking about it."

"Now, now," spoke an almost sweet, calming voice. It's personality held all the qualities of masculinity, but tranquil enough to fool you as it rose from the none too distant chatter. Usui recognized it immediately, the sound as familiar to him as the back of his own hand, as the thoughts in his own head. "No need to pester him, boys. It's his birthday. It's time to celebrate." The owner of the words came to stand between Cedric and Shiroyan, his broad shoulders widening to gather each of the men around their shoulders. His smile was loose and harmless as he met the other men's eyes. He gestured his head back toward the table, where partygoers waited expectantly, presumably for Usui. "Why don't you two get the cake ready? Those candles aren't going to light themselves."

Cedric gave Shiroyan a look, a silent code to obey. They unraveled themselves from the figure to light the candles. Before he turned his back, Cedric gave Usui a wink, the light catching in his honey colored eyes. It didn't do much to reassure him, but Usui related the gesture to _good luck, kiddo._

Not for the first time, Usui wondered, begrudged, what he'd do when this situation arose. How hard he'd have to refrain from simultaneously yelling at the top of his lungs and punching a wall in. He wasn't allowed as many moments, as many minutes as he'd always wished. Perhaps a few seconds, a few breaths before the other man opened his mouth and spoke with words directed only to him.

"Happy birthday, Usui. You're finally a man now," he said, and if weren't for his own experience, the liquid staining the rims of his eyes could have been genuine. Could have been believable.

Could have been appreciated.

Usui played idly with the gun still clasped in his hand. It served as a useless distraction, a hopeless restlessness. His voice was low, throaty, a projection only the other man could catch. "Where is she," he whispered softly, not meeting those familiar eyes as identical to his own as one twin to another.

A small sigh brushed past his smiling lips. "You're worried," he pointed out, very obviously. Usui was about to perform an action with a promise filled with harm, but the man spoke again. "I wouldn't be. Her condition hasn't changed. She's fine." When Usui didn't reply, he bulldozed onward.

"I wanted to tell you how proud I was of you-"

"Really?" inquired Usui, finally meeting those sunshine eyes. "Really, is that what you wanted to do? I wouldn't waste your breath."

Yuu Hirose sighed, the light in his eyes fading out, like the sun's radiance at the end of the day. As if he had been almost expecting this reaction. As well he should. "Look, Usui . . . I know you don't really want to talk to me-"

"I think that's a bit of an understatement, father. Don't you?" his look was challenging. "I assume you're the one that put this whole ordeal together."

Yuu took a glance behind him, at the people laughing and sipping generously from the cups in their hands. They all looked genuinely pleased, the atmosphere filled to the brim with that sort of ease and comfort that felt so much, and so not, like home. "No, actually. Cedric and Kuuga thought of the idea. They knew you wouldn't like it, I think."

"Well, they weren't wrong."

"But they did it out of good faith. They wanted to loosen you up. It's your twenty-first birthday, Usui, you should enjoy it and not worry-"

Usui snorted. "Right. Why don't I get right on that, then?"

"Takumi-" Usui sent Yuu the sharpest look, precise enough to cut glass. "Won't you ever let me apologize?" he whispered.

Usui thought suddenly of himself, of the way his large, green, seven-year-old eyes peered curiously back at him through the mirror in the study room, with the sun reflecting off it's surface. Guilty. He remembered thinking to himself, even then, if the person looking back at him was the same person at all. The image, the moment, the scene, assaulted his memories. Played like a film in the curtains behind his eyes. Her soft, wavy locks, glinting in the light through the overexaggerated windows. Her smile was soft, everything about her soft and welcoming. He looked at her through the mirror, letting their eyes meet. Nothing about her ever seemed less than adoring, less than kind. _Won't you ever let me apologize?_ He remembered turning around, his small seven year old self taking strides too big for him to cross the room to her, as she opened her arms and he flopped into the circle of her gentle lock. She never embraced him too roughly.

She couldn't.

And like the crack of a whip, his mind snapped back to the reality he was forced to live in.

"Isn't there some type of party I should be getting to?" thought aloud Usui, puckering his lips meaningfully. Wandering eyes from the throng ahead hooked his, attempting to reel him in. As much as the scent and idea of cake filled him with an irregular sense of pleasure, the idea of cold water running the length of his body seemed much more appropriate. However off-topic the thought came across.

Yuu, his black hair graying with streaks of age peeking through the thicket of strands, sighed, raking his hand through the inherited forest. The tension, built like bricks into his build, was noticeable even to unfamiliar eyes. Though the look that stole his features faster than Usui could catch was there and gone as fast as it had been created. Like an eraser to dark sketch lines, Yuu wiped his expression clean of the anxiety and painted a halfway believable smile across his lips.

"Of course," he said, eyes crinkling the way they did at the corners. His hand found the comfortable place on Usui's shoulder the way it used to as he clasped it briskly and gestured for him to carry on. "Enjoy the party. Try the cake."

Having nothing else to say, Usui replied, "Okay." He shook off his fathers hand, and in fact shook off the entire conversation he had struggled to piece together, and moved forward toward the cake he apparently needed to try.

"Usuuuuiii!"

The voice, painfully familiar, sung like a horrific melody into his ears. Kuuga, clad in his usual attire of gray pants, white button down and some variation of a colored velvet vest, skipped playfully toward the honey-blonde boy. In his hand a plastic cup surprisingly restrained any rogue liquid from slipping out. And even more surprising, as the peppy boy neared closer, he held it out to Usui to take for himself.

"Happy birthday," he started to sing it that unusually charismatic singing voice of his, and the rest of the attendees joined in on the usual. Usui couldn't help the embarrassed smirk crawling across his mouth, and the heat squirming around his neck. He shook his head and failed at resisting the urge to chuckle.

"To you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Usuuuiiiiii . . . Happy birthday to you!"

"Gee, like I haven't heard that one twenty-one times . . ." he said, bringing the cup to his lips. Usually, his tolerance for alcohol was gloriously high - though after feeling the burn slide down his throat, he felt it wouldn't take many doses of whatever liquor inside this particular cup to get him past the tipsy stage. He sent a silent props to whoever picked it out.

Kuuga laughed, his remarkably sharp canines poking at his bottom lip. "And you'll hear it again next year, and the year after that, and the year after that . . ."

"If I live that long," muttered Usui into the cup, downing another sip.

"Oh, you'll live. As long as you got me to cover your ass every time you screw up," Kuuga promised, grinning.

"If you had an ass as sensational as mine, you'd understand the dyer need to have it covered, too."

Kuuga simply shook his head, his unearthly colored hair tickling the sides of his temples and lobes of his ears. "Ready to blow the candles?"

Usui shook his head in disbelief. "You even got _candles?_ What am I, five?"

"What?" challenged the other boy. "The task too much for you? They say shortness of breath is caused by all kinds of things . . ."

"Not challenging," Usui replied. "Childish."

"Nuh uh! I still have candles on my cakes."

"Exhibit A . . . "

"Hey!" someone yelled from the far end of the table, holding up a long lighter with the remnants of smoke breathing from the top. "You gonna blow these candles out or what? I like my _cake_ to taste like _cake_ , not wax."

"What ever happened to patience being a virtue?" Usui asked of no one in particular.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Kuuga answered. "It stopped being virtuous."

Usui gave Kuuga a look. "That's very illuminating."

Together, they made their way to the anxious mob, pleasant thoughts of cake filling the minds of everyone in the room. Usui couldn't help but feel separated from the party, in defiance of the whole shebang created specifically for him anyways. He'd always attended surprise parties for other people, other places and for other reasons. He'd never anticipated his own. He found, instead of being convenient and thoughtful, they were seemingly good at interrupting the training in which he had been undergoing in the first place. It didn't, by definition, agitate him.

But, really.

Candles?

He took another sip in preparation for the event.

Ikuto, the faithful partner of Shiroyan, turned out to be the impatient culprit holding the lighter. As Usui and Kuuga approached through the crowd, he gave a wicked grin as he pocketed the lighter and held out an arm. It wrapped around Usui's shoulders - something he had not been expecting- and a brief pat on the back signaled the end of the embrace.

"Happy birthday, man. Glad to know you're finally able to go to the bar with us on alternate Friday's." His smile was endearing, despite this now made them the same age.

Usui, not as thrillingly enthused, halted a roll of his eyes. "Joy."

"Oh, come on," said Cedric, who had cunningly appeared out of nowhere, as usual. "You know you've always wanted to go with us."

Usui gave moments to contemplate the outcome, as he had every other alternate Friday he could have simply sneaked in along with the men and pretended to have a grand time while they drank their nights away and scored numbers off of girls watching them play pool. He had not, apparently, grown any fonder of the idea. "While I sincerely appreciate the offer," he said, the sarcasm enveloping every syllable, "The idea of becoming one of your lonely man squad members actually makes me want to shed a tear or two. So, with all do respect, I think I'll have to sit this one out. And the next one. And every single one after that."

A few laughs erupted from the eavesdropping crowd. Ikuto readied a mocking punch, but Usui shot him a warning look.

"Do it, and I will break all of your fingers."

"I don't doubt that one much, lad," Cedric said to Ikuto. "Watched him do it. Not a pretty picture."

"CAKE," Shiroyan interrupted. "Let's get on with it!"

Usui was ushered to the edge of the table where a not-so-small edible object sat centerpiece of an array of dilectible looking desserts. The cake was, notably, pitch black, a color that mimicked the night at its darkest and most formidable hour. Frosting made swirls and loops around the tall-standing rectangle of sugar. Upon the flattest surface, a rough font spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY - not that you could see it. Twenty one identical candles lined along the top, all burning with a soft fire that made the candles sweat their wax onto the cake.

"I bet he can't do it," whispered Ikuto to Shiroyan.

"What's that saying again?" inquired Kuuga. "If you blow them all out you'll get a girlfriend or something?"

In a quick succession, chants of "DO IT, DO IT, DO IT" erupted from the hungry mouths of the people of the agency, drowning out the world in the noise rushing into Usui's ears. He was vaguely aware of their urgency and more hyperaware of the sense he was supposed to be doing something right now, be somewhere else. He branded the inclination as petty superstition and bent his body at his torso, filling his lungs with air. In a strong breath, he expelled it all, dousing each and every flame until the melting wax dried halfway through its gradual drip.

The chants had disappeared, replaced by a frenzy of grateful cheers and whoops and hollers. Usui's shoulder was patted brotherly by Kuuga, who was rambling on about getting a girlfriend, and that he would have to teach her his magnificent blowing skills or something or the other. The crooked grin took his lips by surprise.

"Well, isn't this endearing."

The noise died down, dissipating slowly into a relevant silence that caught Usui by the throat and squeezed with a harshness he hated with a passion to admit. Everyone looked back, Usui following suit in a relatively slow manner, taking the action by stride.

Walking toward the group was with all the elegance of a panther was Gerard, dressed in a black suit crisper than Grandma's burnt cookies that clashed noticeably with the casual atmosphere. His sleek black hair was greased back in a neat pile atop his head, exploiting his severe face, only a few ears older than Usui's. He neared with the hesitance of what could have passed for disgust, if read the right way.

"Celebrating your overdue leap into adulthood, are you, little brother?" he asked, his eyes locked securely on Usui's. Usui stared back with a face as blank as an unused canvas.

"Gerard," spoke Cedric out of the dimmed chatter. "How nice of you to finally join the party." His voice was light with an approachful ease.

"Alas, I have no interest for such a thing. I'm surprised you do, little brother. Your tolerance for childish games is as high as ever, I see," he said, never looking away. He was looking at Usui with that kind of unmasked superiority that oozed conceited.

Usui clenched his fists together, burying his anger despite how much the look on his older brothers' face made him want to bash it in with a brick. Or chair. Or building.

"Then what _are_ you here for?" Kuuga inquired.

Gerard's eyes, with a definitive glint, finally left Usui's and busied themselves around the room, as if scouting for something. "I'm looking for Yuu. Where is he?"

"Here." Yuu emerged from the shadows, with an expression of curious worry straining his features. "Why, is something the matter? Has something happened?"

"Something is always happening," Gerard replied. "And I have come here directly from a meeting with Tora Igarashi."

"Igarashi?" echoed Yuu. "You attended a meeting with him?"

"Him and what scrub of the streets he was able to conjure up," his adoptive son spat with mild disgust.

Now everyone seemed to be tuned into the conversation, the cake forgotten. Usui hadn't been much looking forward to it anyway, but the thought and peace had been nice, at least, while it lasted. Before his brother decided to strut his stuff into the agency like he may as well have owned it and everyone in it.

"What for? What's happening?" Cedric asked, curiosity getting the best of him, as always. His ease had gone and his body was tense with that business-like rigidity they all retained for important moments like these. Usui couldn't much blame him. All of his nerves had opened their eyes, his whole being snapping taut, like a wire.

"It's T.E.C.H," Gerard started to explain. "They're undergoing intense investigation for companies they think are partnering with foreigners under the radar. Apparently someone's getting too friendly with companies abroad, and they don't approve much."

"T.E.C.H?" Shiroyan asked. "I thought _they_ stayed under the radar for the most part. Shouldn't the government be doing something like that instead? It's more their field of work."

Gerard shot a glare sharp enough to cut glass with. "Who do you think ordered them to do that in the first place, genius?"

Shiroyan flinched away slightly. "It's just surprising, is all."

"The governments petty access is limited nowadays. T.E.C.H has all the proper tools it needs to perform the investigation, which one can rightfully assume is going to be extremely thorough. It doesn't surprise me that they've taken up the duty. And they probably released the fourm, stating they were going to do so, to scare people into either confessing or hiding, which would make them more noticeable. It was a good idea to get all the pansies to the front line."

"Or a warning," Usui said for the first time since his half-brother had arrived. "They basically gave away their opportunity to investigate soundlessly, without anyone knowing. The element of surprise. It was actually a pretty stupid idea to shout to the whole world what they were doing, if you ask me."

Gerard looked back at Usui. "You clearly don't know how the game works, litt-"

"Oh?" Usui feigned surprise. "Now who's playing games?"

Gerard's look hardened. He opened his mouth to retort, but Yuu was there, interrupting them both.

"Enough," he declared. "Gerard, why don't you get to the point?"

Gerard's eyes slid from Usui's as slow as a predatory snake, to meet Yuu's again. "Why don't I." He straightened up and cleared his throat, which Usui couldn't imagine had been blocked in the first place. His filter had been about to sleep straight from it. "I'm here to press upon your newest case."

"Case?" Cedric was looking at Gerard.

"Yes. Let me briefly explain: Tora somehow gained information about a member of T.E.C.H that went about and leaked information about the companies on the list of investigation. This man apparently gave information-containing documents to his girlfriend as of current, and then ran off after quitting his job at T.E.C.H without word of where he was going. His girlfriend disappeared right along with him, leaving nothing to go off of. So now Tora is eager to get his hands on this woman's daughter, blindly convinced she has all the documents because she now lives in her mom's old apartment. Which gives me every reason to believe Tora is guilty of the crimes he's going off and accusing others of, which is _why_ we cannot allow him to get hold of anything even remotely related to what he's searching for."

After a silence of everyone attempting to comprehend the mouthful of information Gerard spoon-fed to them, Cedric spoke up almost weakly.

"That was definitely . . . Brief."

Gerard gave him a quizzical look, dark eyebrows bent in a question.

"I think," stepped in Yuu, "he means, it was just a lot to take in, is all."

"I mean, it's not everyday you hear Japan's most elite business man is running a scheme to redirect the investigation for alleged criminals on the loose," pointed out Ikuto, who had also remained characteristically silent in situations as this. Usui always assumed he tried taking away some of the tension and awkwardness by inserting his own sarcastically factual comments. As if the point wasn't blatant enough. Watching him attempt it now made Usui's inner sympathy hurt.

"You do have a point, however," Yuu said. "That does pit a lot of suspicion on Igarashi."

"Well, I hardly doubt he's trying to find the documents to return to their rightful owner out of the goodness of his own precious little heart," Usui said. Again, he had been thinking the words internally, but they seemed to fit so much better in complete sentences streaming endlessly out of his mouth.

"If he even has one," Shiroyan muttered.

Gerard, looking extravagantly annoyed at this point, gave a blank stare over the crowd.

"So, then, what's this case?"

Usui's older brother gave a roll of his eyes, shaped differently from his younger sibling's thinner orbs. "I don't suppose the peanut gallery has more commentary to add before I proceed?"

Usui gave a shrug of his broad, muscled shoulders. "Sorry," he said. "Fresh out."

Gerard's lips pursed, a look that read _I can't possibly be related to that._ Because it pained him so much to have to associate himself with such a lesser being as Usui himself. "The case is the daughter, who I can imagine will need extensive protection if any of you hope to evade the catastrophe this could all set in place. You'll need to ready your best, Yuu."

"Of course," agreed Yuu. His eyes had left Gerard and were finding company elsewhere. Usui realized, belatedly, that company encompassed himself. "My two finest, Kuuga and Usui." And while a disbelieving look took hold of Gerard's face, Usui wasn't sure how to feel about the fact his father had complimented and acknowledged his skills in front of everyone in the agency. _My two finest._ Where the _hell_ had he pulled that from? Before just today, he was the youngest on the entire team, the baby who never got to take on any of the "serious" cases of the institute. But then, on the spot, his father was assigning him some grand job all of a sudden? Not that he didn't agree himself - he was a damn good agent. He deserved the runs and tasks some of the "more experienced" dimwits in there got. But what was his father trying to pull? He knew, almost better than anyone, the idea was not going on Gerard's favorites list.

"What?" Gerard sputtered, caught off guard. "Yuu, no - Do you understand how serious this is? You can't have someone as young and inexperienced as Usui running around, a potential threat to the whole-"

"Usui has plenty of experience, and is more than capable of taking care of himself. I know him well, if you don't forget, Mr. Walker. He is my son, after all. And I've assigned him with Kuuga. They make the most impenetrable tag team I've ever seen. They are well equipped for the task, believe me."

Gerard's jaw clenched.

Part of Usui was still reeling from the fact he had officially, no questions asked, been assigned to the mission. Another part was internally laughing in Gerard's face. _How do you like them apples, brother? Tired of the game now?_

Gerard made as if to protest again, but was cut off.

"What I say here, goes, as head of the agency. So either be content with who I have chosen, or don't seek help from me here," Yuu said, a firmness to his voice that hadn't been there before. He sounded strong, as he did when he usually put the fatherly foot down, like a real parent, and declared his ruling.

Gerard's nostrils flared, muscles in his jaw flexing, before he went to smartly choose his next words. "As you wish, Yuu." He turned, almost reluctantly, in the direction of Usui and Kuuga, who stood close together from previous events. His eyes were hard, but then again, Usui had never been addressed with the softness of looks he doubted Gerard was capable of concocting. "As for you two," he said. "You are now officially in charge of the protection of Misaki Ayuzawa."

The name, unsurprisingly, didn't ring any obvious bells for Usui.

A small noise, however, had resounded from Kuuga beside him. It sounded almost like a gasp. Everyone turned toward him, and Usui noticed his eyes had gone wide with, what - _recognition?_

"Misaki Ayuzawa?" he echoed, as if tasting the name on his tongue, trying to distinguish whether he was familiar with its ring or not.

"What?" asked Gerard. "Are you confused or something?"

"Wait," Yuu said, stepping closer to them both. Something was molding his features as he stared at Kuuga's wide eyes. "Do you know her?"

This revelation hit Usui like a train.

"Yeah," Kuuga said. "I know her. In fact, I know where she is right now."

 **+N+**

The repetitive strums of acoustic strings thrummed loudly in the cavernous underground space. The walls down below were crafted entirely of uninsulated, graffitied cement walls. Cement posts stood at even intervals, upholding the ceiling, which above contained an old music store. Normally, the temperature would have forced a sweater on, or a jacket over your back, but not with the swelling amount of warm bodies swaying, colliding back and fourth. The ones in the far recesses were blacked out - not that the people closer to the stage were necessarily any easier to distinguish. The illumination below ground consisted of dimmed black lights, raining down from the ceiling at uneven positions around the crowd. They didn't seem to care, or notice, really - their focus was on the two people on stage.

Misaki Ayuazawa sat on a stool she had to admit felt rather uncomfortable, with the way she was settled upon it. An acoustic guitar rested snugly on her long, bent legs. A microphone faced the space between her lips as she opened her mouth to sing into it.

Her first chords were but music streaming from her throat, as she closed her eyes and let the sounds escape her body. Her fingers never rested their work upon the taut strings. Hinata Shintani sat a little ways from her, playing a professional percussion background to her guitar. He had always been fascinated by the rhythms one could revise with nothing but a beat and a pencil against a wooden desk. And he was _good_ at it, too, at finding a space between the sounds and filling the silence with something that made your hips move.

 _Boy,_  
 _I've been watching you_  
 _Like a hawk in the sky_  
 _That flies,_  
 _And you were my prey_

Misaki let the words flow from the deepest part of her throat, a low sound that didn't elicit any startled movements. She implemented the throatiest melody she could muster while still giving a honey-like texture to the syllables. People said she was good at singing, but she was only what other's opinions labeled her as, after all.

 _. . .I've been holding back_  
 _This secret from you,_  
 _I probably shouldn't letcha_

Her eyes opened with that laziness of someone who felt tired at night but reeled with the buzz of an untamed energy. Hinata was bent over the small "drumset," which didn't consist of any symbols, but only three percussion instruments. His hands were gentle upon them but their sound was an echoing melody.

 _. . .Are you responsible?_  
 _Boy you better watch my body_  
 _I'm not just anybody_

Privately, Misaki held back a smile that formed somewhere between _here_ and _there,_ from the distance between her heart and her brain. This - this is what was truly relaxing about the day. This was the part where every stress built up over the course of hours of pressure in law school was released in a sweet, languid way. This was that high she felt, the drug to her subtle addiction. Being in a space with people who let go of everything, where they felt the music and moved their bodies. Of course, with an older ages show, the bodies crowded together were bound to do more than just _sway,_ but that was them. This was her.

 _Is it my go, Is it your go_  
 _Sometimes I'm a goody goody_  
 _Right now I'm a naughty naughty_  
 _Say yes or say no_  
 _Cause I really need somebody_  
 _Tell me are you that somebody,  
Eh_

The music droned on as Misaki and Hinata played their unified verses and Misaki let the lyrics fall from her lips like clear, individual drops of rain in that voice that was so foreign yet reassuringly familiar to her. As the song came to a close, Misaki looked discreetly over her shoulder at Hinata, who looked up at her from his beats and smiled. She returned the gesture ever so faintly and returned to the mic for her final cord. After releasing it, feeling the vibration of sound exit her body, another vibration of cheers and claps leapt up the stage and crawled over her body. She felt the appreciation deep in her bones, like food for the soul she never thought she'd concoct for herself in any available kitchen.

This was also, however, her cue to exit. She had always found it silly when you would hear in movies or quotes to "exit stage left" until it was, she realized, you _did,_ actually, exit stage left. She heard rather than saw Hinata follow suit behind her after giving a courteous nod. Once offstage, they found themselves in the Green room, and venturing even further, finding themselves back in their appropriate backstage vanity tables.

"Whoo!" the relief came from them both simultaneously.

Misaki turned around and opened her arms, to which Hinata folded over her in a friendly embrace. "Good job," she spoke to the nothingness behind him.

"You too," he replied, effortless enthusiasm in his elated voice. He squeezed her tight, as if she might be a balloon without the promise of staying put. As if she would simply fly away if he let go even an inch. "You were great out there. You _are always_ great."

This flattery seemed unnecessary for the occasion. "Oh, please," she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He was a head taller than her, so she had to tilt her own up to meet his shining green orbs. "It was just routine. Besides, I couldn't have done it without you." And she meant it, despite the light tease in her voice.

His grin was unstoppable. "I knew you needed me for something."

"I always need you," she said softly. And at this there was a slight change in his features that one might not have caught had they not known him long enough to notice. But she did. She knew the way his teeth were slightly crooked on one side of his mouth, how the scar on his upper cheek from falling out of a cherry tree when they were kids shone sometimes when the light caught it between its teeth; how his hair curled away slightly from his ears and his eyes squinted harshly when he was concentrating with a mighty force. How he looked when he was overtly happy.

How he looked when shock took its pencils and started drawing in his features.

And, seeing this happen, she moved forward, fearing it was the wrong way he took her sentence causing him to look this way. "You're my best friend," she continued hurriedly.

His features returned, though there was something in them she couldn't quite catch. Though she presumed she was imagining things again.

"Of course," he said. He let his arms fall from her shoulders. "You're my best friend, too."

She smiled to erase whatever had happened, and moved on. "So, birthday boy," she began, unslinging the acoustic guitar from her shoulders and placing it in its safe spot nestled in its case upon the vanity table. "What is it you'd like to do, now that our gig's over?"

Hinata stood in the center of the room, not really having much to pack away. "It's pretty late now," he observed, checking his watch. "I doubt many places are open."

"Please, it's a Saturday night in _Tokyo._ Do you really think the town's sleeping at this hour?" she asked, giving him a look that said _you-should-know-better-than-this._ And without knowing it herself, she proceeded to ask: "And, what hour would this be, exactly?"

Hinata rolled his eyes. "Eleven."

"My!" Misaki exclaimed, feigning surprise. "Only an hour until your _super special_ day ends," she mocked, sugar coating 'super special' in that baby voice she knew he hated.

"Yes, it's all very regrettable." He moved toward the far wall, straightening up what little items he had brought, such as his wallet and cell phone, and his jingling car keys that made their presence very obnoxiously known. "I was thinking we could actually . . ." He seemed to hesitate. "Maybe just go back to your place? Maybe watch a movie and have some pizza . . ." His voice trailed off to the unknown.

Misaki, rare for her, examined herself in the wide vanity mirror affront her. The large yellow bulbs were harsh on her features, casting unattractive shadows across her face, her figure. Her straight, silky brown hair was slightly knotted and frizzy. Her large brown eyes were wide, and her face was oily with the sheen of just having played. All in all, she couldn't have said she looked her best at the moment, but then again she supposed she never looked much better. Dressed semi-casual in a pair of skinny jeans and a maroon button down rolled up to the elbows, she couldn't have said what it was, but some part of her didn't much want to return home. This was very unlike her, as she usually spent most off-time of school studying, working, or playing gigs for extra rent money. But something in her blood was telling her what she _really_ wanted to do was not something she would have chosen on any other occasion.

"I don't really want to go home," she said aloud, surprising herself.

"You don't?" Hinata seemed taken aback, his eyes gone wide as Misaki turned to look at her best friend.

"No. I want to . . . I don't know. I want to be _out._ I want to experience something new. I want to have a little fun . . ." she realized she was drabbling, and met Hinata's eyes with a look she wasn't fully aware of. "Don't you?"

Hinata, however, looked truly stopped, as if he had been walking and a wall had suddenly been shoved in his face. "Misaki are you . . . Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He neared her and she was so unexpectant of his hand coming to place on her forehead that she didn't have time to stop it before she felt his warm palm across her skin. "You do feel a little warm-"

"Oh, jeez-" she rolled her eyes, brushing his arm away. "I'm _fine._ I didn't know it was illegal to not want to go home just yet. Pardon me, _mom._ "

Hinata's mouth opened in an 'o' completely representative of an uneaten donut. "Ouch. I've been resorted to mom status? That's no longer a friendzone. That's a _mom_ zone. Do you know what a blow to our manly pride that is?"

"Yes," she echoed, mimicking his earlier tone. "It's all very regrettable." With another roll of her eyes, Misaki then busied herself with readying her small, brown leather bag/purse her mother had gotten her as a graduation present. Leather was expensive, but then again her mother had always been going off about the importance of feminine traveling devices, and how it was basic nature for a woman to carry around at least a bag to conceal all of her products. Ever since, she never went a place without the thing. Its size was convenient and friendly as it fit snugly at her hip once strung diagonal across her torso. Being a fairly simple woman herself, she never had much to carry in the first place. A small wallet. Her phone. And probably the most useful thing, the concealing of a few tampons in the inner zipper pocket, just in case. You had to have a car in order to have the need to carry around keys.

She was retrieving her hair from the strap's bite when Hinata spoke again. "What do you _propose_ we do, then, your highness? We can't very well go to a bar, or club, or anything of the sort."

Misaki's grunts from lifting and applying her guitar case to herself poked through her words. "What is it with men thinking the only possible way to have fun is to go get drunk and then pretend to dance like they know what they're doing?"

"That statement would technically apply - though some of us men, thank you very much, _do_ know what we're doing when we dance."

"Really?" she asked, now slightly breathless from the task. "You'll have to introduce me to one sometime."

He hit her arm playfully, smiling, as she continued to joke about his inferior dancing skills. They made their way out from the underground studio, talking animatedly. Underneath, it had been hot, but one step above the surface and the cool night air swept Misaki up in a refreshing tide. She felt the night's breath on her neck, welcoming the relief. The studio was located on the side of one of the busier streets in downtown Tokyo, only a few blocks from the Square. Cars were blurring past in a mirage of colors, noticeable against the clear, almost starless black night. With the smog of the city and the illumination it produced, it was hard ever seeing the stars unless you visited a place more rural, devoid of such lights.

People who had gone to watch the show were pouring out of a separate entrance, laughing and making noise of their own. She didn't recognize any of them (thank God) but stopped at the curb, where Hinata's gleaming, metallic Hyundai Sonata perched against the sidewalk.

At this point, she was vaguely aware of the words he was addressing her with, and was instead, inadvertently, only focusing on the breathing of the slight night breeze, and the friction of speeding cars along the populated street. Even the words of the semi-sober pedestrians behind her were a blotch in the lens she was losing focus of. She tilted her head up to the sky and closed her eyes, allowing the atmosphere to simmer upon the plain she was standing.

". . . And of course it's not always like that, but sometimes they get into these moods . . ." Hinata was saying. She thought. He was standing too far away, on the other side of the car, unlocking it.

And it was a weird sense, she thought. How she never agreed to let superstition take possession of her sound mind, but here she was with the thought full and fresh in her brain that someone was watching her. Looking at her. But perhaps every girl thought that at night, without the protection of another mortal being to be their constant reassurance. And she would have passed it on as that and continued enjoying the feel of air on her body and city in her lungs, had she not, for some unplaceable reason, opened her eyes and tilted her head.

In the row of specially planted trees along the broad sidewalk, one stood out against the rest. Perhaps it had something to do with the boy leaning his back against it, arms artfully crossed and one leg over the other in a content stance. His body was facing her, and she met his eyes with a shock she hadn't been, in the very, minimal least, expecting. His eyes were dark, even in the rainbow of lights popping around the area. Misaki thought they looked green under that canopy of golden lashes. They were half-lidded, and a small quirk upturned the corner of his mouth. He held the expression of an amused laziness, as if he couldn't be bothered. And she thought, for a single, wild moment, he looked like a lion. With that wild mane of golden hair and almost predatory sheen to his eyes, he looked like a lion.

He was also, incidentally, looking right at her.

"Misaki?"

This snapped her back to reality, dissipating her reverie. "Hm?" she said, looking back to Hinata who was staring, confused, at her.

His eyes flicked to the direction she had been staring and back again. "What were you looking at?"

She tried to hide the lie prominent in her teeth. "Nothing."

He didn't seem to believe it. "You looked very . . . dazed."

"Just staring off into space." She gave the most believable smile she could, and flicked an annoying lock of hair from her eyelashes. "Ready?" Her fingers played at the door handle, pulling to unlock it.

"Sure." Hinata deposited himself in the drivers seat, slamming his door behind him.

Before she moved to do the same, Misaki gave another glance back in the direction she had seen the lion-like boy - and found it empty of any presence at all. Perhaps she had imagined it? But he had _seemed_ real . . .

With slight hesitation, she followed suit and shut the door behind her.

* * *

 **Right, so, I know it might not seem that interesting just yet, but introductions and such were necessary for the first official chapter of _Night._ I thank you all who tuned in! I, regrettably, think you will come to realize I am one of FanFiction's slowest updaters - but I do try! A for effort! **

**Also, a little insight on what's happening so far - if you only watched the Anime without any knowledge of the Manga, this all probably seems a little confusing to you. The anime doesn't go over everything in the Manga, such as the fact Takumi Usui has an older brother, Gerard Walker, and that Takumi's real father's name is Yuu. Cedric is also a character adopted from the Manga - Gerard's butler of sorts. There will be more characters to come of the Manga-Only variety. I implore you to do your research on the Manga itself and read it if you have not yet! It's far better than the anime, just for description and length purpouses.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! I shall update as soon as next possible. In the meantime, tell me what you thought of this little snippet? c:**


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